Heartless Wasteland
by distruzio
Summary: This ain't you're average wasteland tale. How do you make the heartless care?
1. Chapter 1

Waking up had always been the worst part of any day for her.

On the cusp of blissful respite the human body relaxes away the days trials and tribulations. Consciousness slips away; is replaced by dreams of impossibility and confusion that somehow, in the moment, are possible and clear. One might have a final grasp of conscious thought in which one seeks to guide their impending dreamscape but… dreams never bend to conscious will, do they? But, every morning, following every night, the sanctuary must be broken by the sun. Consciousness floods back in and duty replaces respite. The sun chases away the chill of the night as duty chases away the comfort of sleep. For her, waking up had always been the worst part of the day. And this day – this awakening, was no different….except that it was different.

Later, she would try to remember the dream that would not break the haze that consciousness brings upon memory. She would try to remember but she would not. She would only have the perception that her dream, if it could be called a dream, had been terrible. She would remember fangs, chittering, clacking, cracking, and searing pain. She would remember the way her body felt upon waking. She would remember all of this but only much later. For the haze that consciousness brings clouds the clarity of the dreamscape with such effectiveness that the human mind struggles to make sense of even the slightest bit of information.

Her throat ached. Her mouth tasted foul beyond belief. She smelled something rotten. These were the first bits of information her brain managed to piece together. Groaning, she tried to wipe the sleep from her eyes but her arms felt…distant. Heavy, even. Likely, they'd been stuck in the same position for hours. Had she slept on her stomach with her arms trapped beneath her, slowly suffocating from blood flow restriction? No. That couldn't be right. She was on her back. So she tried flexing her fingers. Closing and opening her hand once, twice, again. Even her finger tips felt heavy. She curled her toes. Everything seemed so much more laborious than usual.

Skipping all the usual wakening routine, Veronica forced her eyes open…only they wouldn't open. She could feel her eyelids flutter but no light poured in.

_What the hell?_

Biting down the beginnings of panic, she used the flood of adrenaline to test out her limbs. She focused on the sensory input that muscles newly charged with natural chemicals allowed her. So she was in a bed. That much was certain. And it was a soft bed at that. She could move with growing alacrity now that her blood vessels had opened. Inhaling sharply, she tried rubbing her eyes again only to discover that they were covered with a soft damp cloth. Veronica pulled the cloth away and tried to calm herself.

_Oh god! How much did I drink last night? …did I drink last night?_

She groaned again. As the imagery began to take shape around her, Veronica tried to recall what had happened to her. Her vision was blurry. Her head began to pound. She could hear her heartbeat as much as feel it. None of that, however, was the worst of it – her mouth tasted like she'd chewed on a corpse and the room, however she'd arrived there, _smelled_ like a corpse.

_Wherever I am someone needs to open the damned window!_

"Ah, you're awake…how about that?" _Who?_ Veronica tried to sit up. Her body didn't fail to remind her just how bad an idea that was. Her mind reeled with vertigo, her stomach lurched, her extremities tingled, and the pain in her head that had only begun to recede flooded back into existence with fervor she'd never known before. "Whoa easy there! Easy…" She felt a steadying hand grip her arm, "you've been out cold for a couple of days now. Why don't you just relax a second? Get your bearings."

Veronica held her head until the worst of the pain, spinning and tingling subsided trying to use the natural shade it provided to allow her eyes to adjust to the room. It was all too much. Putting her head in her hands she leaned down until she felt like she'd fall off the bed if she leaned any further.

"Where? Who?"

"Let's see what the damage is. How about your name. Can you tell me your name?"

"My n-name? Veronica. I'm Veronica. Now how about _your_ name?"

"Veronica, huh? Can't say that's what I'd have picked for you but if that's your name, that's your name. I'm Doctor Rotson. Welcome to Hell's Motel."

"Hell's Motel?" Veronica looked up. "Oh…" Doctor Rotson, it seemed, was a ghoul. _That would explain the smell._ His skin was, like all ghouls, rotting away. The most obvious feature, however, was not his skin but the absence of a nose. His right eye seemed to be hanging lower than his left. His hair was greyed, brittle, and growing in patches. "Sorry… I've just… I've never been so close to… one of you before."

His smile was not the smile of a man with insecurities about his appearance, "One of me? Ah. You mean a ghoul." He shrugged, "it could've been worse. I could've been a super mutant, you know? Now now, missy. You don't have to worry about a thing. I'm quite aware of what I look like. I would add that I'm aware of what I smell like too but… as you can see… I'm down one of my senses, it seems." He cackled at his own humor the way a father tells lame "dad jokes" that only he thinks is funny.

"Yeah… again. Sorry. I didn't mean to be a prick about it." He waved her apology away, so she continued, "So I'm at Hell's Motel? Where is that? How'd I get here? Where are my clothes? And why do I feel like a super mutant beat the shit outta me… and why does my mouth taste like a super mutant made out with me?"

"All very good questions, my dear!" Rotson exclaimed. "I'll be happy to answer all of that and more once I'm sure you've got all your faculties about you."

"What do I need to do?"

"Do? You don't have to _do_ anything," Rotson sighed, "well, if you're feeling well enough to be curious then I suppose telling you where you are and what happened while I check on your condition won't hurt." Reaching forward cautiously, the doctor gently pulled the gown she didn't remember wearing before waking up over her head. Veronica blushed to see that Rotson had, obviously, had to disrobe her in order to save her life. She hadn't often been naked in front of anyone and the thought of being naked in front of a ghoul was, despite his pleasant demeanor, a revolting prospect. But she steeled her nerves.

He unwrapped a stethoscope from around his neck, placed the tip on her chest, taking great care to keep whatever contact he made with her nearly bare and bare flesh alike firmly professional-like, and motioned for her to breathe deeply, "you took a hell of a beating, sure, but not from one of those super mutants." He moved the instrument to her back. Leaning so close, the stench of his decaying body was almost overwhelming, "in order to save your life," Rotson continued, "I had to give you a purgative I concocted from jalepenos, vodka, and horsenettle after I made you eat a bit of smooch to mellow you out from the poultice I put on your wound." He must have seen her furrow her brow in confusion because he added, "the smooch is probably why your mouth tastes so bad. That shit is so rancid even I gag when I dabble. It's this green goo that is more of a chem than it is anything else. I use it to help any patient I might take on through the worst of any procedure I have to perform. It's mighty addictive but easily cured. The shit is so damned nasty I'd almost prefer not giving my patients anything for the pain but… short of med-x, smooch is the best option I have. It's easy to manufacture and cheaper than med-x. Plus, I need the med-x to trade with since I don't really get too many paying patients." He nodded his head at her chest, "And I'm glad you ain't the type to get uppity about me doing my work on ya. I mean, I'm not an old pervert or anything but even I appreciate beauty when I see it."

Veronica looked down at her bare breasts to see that they were not bare at all. Well, at least not any longer. The doctor had wrapped her torso in bandages at some point. Her left side was sore but, otherwise, no worse for wear. "A poultice? What happened to me?"

"You were stuck by a radscorpion, dear. A biggun from the way I heared it. Fella I know found you on the side of the Long 15 south a bit. He brought you here to me."

"Here? Where is here?"

"Oh. Southwest of Primm a bit. You're in the Mesquite Mountains, Miss Veronica. You're in my home. I call it 'Hells Motel'. 'Hells' because of all the damned radiation surrounding the place and 'motel' because my patients never seem to leave… they're all ghouls. Well, all 'cept you, of course."

"How long have I been here, Doc?" He held up three fingers, "Three days? Oh man! This, this guy? He saved me?"

"I don't know, dear. Harp just brought you here, unprotected, told me to fix you up and that he'd be back in a few days." Rotson seemed to spit the word 'unprotected' as though it were ridiculous.

"Unprotected? What do you mean?"

"I mean that the house you're in right now is only radiation free because of some filtration technology I swiped from a vault a few years ago. Took me forever to figure out how to power the damned thing but I did. Harp brought you in here without any protection from radiation." Seeing her widening eyes, Rotson held up his hands as if placating her, "now don't worry, you won't turn feral or anything. You'll keep human a bit longer. Can't say you'll never turn ghoul as I know some of you young'uns like to tempt fate by drinking dirty water instead of the pure stuff. The purgative I gave you purged you of any radiation you might have absorbed. Harp should have known to take you to Mojave Outpost but… NCR don't really take kindly to his kind."

"What's 'his kind'?" Rotson seemed on the verge of letting lose a monster of a secret but, in the end, he visibly shook his head once, then again. He even opened his mouth and inhaled as though to start a third time but….

"Bah! Enough of this gossiping. I'm betting you're tired of being cooped up in the bed after so many days. Can't say I'm upset to see you up finally either. Bathing you had become quite the chore, Miss Veronica, and don't think that because you're a female that your shit don't stink. I can assure you, it does. Especially after that purgative I put into you." She blushed and lowered her eyes in shame. She hadn't even _thought_ about the things this guy had likely had to do for her. Pumping her full of meds was one thing. Wiping her ass was another. And she felt like she'd been bathed this very day too. The way this old man looked at her showed that he wasn't the kind to take advantage where advantage was available. Almost like she wasn't even his flavor, which was an immense relief.

Rotson might have noticed her shameful musing, but he ignored that too, "Beyond that, I'm hungry and I bet you could eat a Brahmin. Hungry little lady?" She was and nodded emphatically. As he leaned forward to offer Veronica his hand, Rotson rasped "Great! Tin Man! Lady Dorothy and I are hungry! …Tin man? Tin Man goddammit! I swear that thrice damned machine had better not have… ah, there you are. Did you hear me?" She felt the heat from the propulsion system coming down the stairs before she saw the source. A Mister Handy series maintenance robot glided to a stop just a few feet from the doctor, complete with an apron.

"I've told you before sir," it buzzed in a monotone accept not altogether unpleasant but at the same time altogether alien from anything Veronica had ever heard, "I am not a cook! I was designed to perform any maintenance services you might require. Services, might I add, which do not include being your chef, sir."

"Yeah yeah. You have told me that but you're wrong you damned bucket of bolts. You're _designed_ to follow your programming and your programming includes cooking me a god damned omelet. I know you're programmed to do that because I programmed you to do that! So, hop to it son!"

"Very well sir. Two omelets coming right up. If you would, sir, please reinitialize my self-diagnosis protocol so that I might perform my functions for you at peak efficiency? At your convenience, of course."

"Later." As the robot disappeared around the corner, Rotson turned back to Veronica, "I'm not doing that. Every time I reinitialize his self-diagnosis protocols the blasted fool purges my cooking and cleaning programming. Can you believe that? The glorified toaster thinks it's too good to make me toast! Hah!"

"I could take a look at it, if you like? I'm pretty good with machines." Veronica offered. It was no small boast. She'd been pulling apart and putting machines back together since before she could walk. It was a special talent of hers and one that her family nurtured. "It'd be a small thing considering how you patched me up."

"You? No no no. I won't be accepting any payment for services rendered. They're gratis – free."

At that, Veronica smiled. This old man might look and smell like a rotting corpse but his heart beat in a way that would make the holiest of men jealous. She leaned a bit forward, showing him a little cleavage, "So hows about telling me a bit more about this Harp, guy. If you won't let me pay for your services, maybe he will?"

Rotson rolled his eyes at her display and laughed out loud. It wasn't an abrasive laugh. It was a comforting one. In fact, Veronica would later realize that this man who had saved her life and given her safe haven without abuse would be one of the most comforting men she'd ever known. "Harper? Accept that for a payment? I'd love to see it, dear. I really would."

"Harper?" She prodded.

But Rotson only deflected her, "Breakfast, dear. I'll tell you all of it at breakfast."


	2. Chapter 2

Veronica's mouth was overfull as she tried to make sense of what the doctor was telling her. She just couldn't believe that she had been saved by some mysterious stranger that everyone Rotson knew referred to as, the Harper, and no one knew where he came from or what he did – not even the doctor – even though the guy had been traveling between Nipton and Primm along the Long 15 for more than a year. Everyone seemed to know who he was but not _who_ he was.

"Look doc," she muttered between gulps, "I get that there are some mysterious people out there. But you say this guy comes here every seven days to load up on med-x and irradiated whiskey you make for him; drops off all the stuff you need to make tequila and omelets which include lakelurk meat and _deathclaw eggs_; pays you 200 caps a visit; and has done so for six months now… but you don't know a thing about him other than he likes his liquor irradiated and has a med-x addiction?"

"Well, I think he's addicted to a bit more than just med-x but that's the gist of what I said, dear. He's an enigma. Rarely speaks. If he does speak it's in a… um… unique manner. More coffee?" Veronica nodded vigorously. She'd never had an omelet before and was skeptical once Rotson'd told her what was in it but, she had to admit, it tasted amazing. The Tin Man had already been forced to make another pair, grumbling the whole time. Veronica couldn't help but wonder about the machine… something wasn't quite right. But that was neither here nor there. Rotson knew his butler better than her, didn't he?

"How often do you eat these things, doc?" He held up three fingers with a smile. "Three times a week? This guy brings you enough deathclaw eggs to make three omelets?"

"No. He brings me enough keep my supply up. When I first met him, he gave me 12 or so. Said he'd been collecting them over the years. Said they'd never hatch because they'd never been fertilized. I hadn't had eggs to eat since the before the war, you see. Chickens don't exist anymore. So when he offered the eggs as payment for med-x, I just had to try them. I limit myself to 3 a week so I'll have a stash for when…if he stops coming." Veronica didn't know what a chicken was but the way the doctor said 'chicken' so casually it made her think of a deathclaw domesticated like a bighorner.

"Still that means that the guy is raiding a deathclaw nest every week…doesn't it?" Rotson merely shrugged. Something didn't add up, though. Veronica took the coffee he offered graciously and sipped slowly while Rotson sat down again. "Then again… maybe they aren't deathclaw eggs?"

"How do you mean?"

"You've never seen him raid a nest, have you? Deathclaws aren't common in this area… I mean, maybe all the way out east or maybe up around Sloan, if the rumors are true. But a trek like that would take more than a week walking. Hell, he'd have to walk all the way up to Sloan, stay for an hour, and walk all the way back just to have a shot at getting here every Thursday."

"So… what are you saying kid?"

"I'm saying… Geckos live around here. Maybe the guy is raiding gecko nests?" To that Rotson made a face. And with his face as rotted as it was, the face he made was enough to finish off Veronica's appetite.

"That could be. Can't say I'd blame him for the lie, though. Can't say I'm angry about it either. I don't get the patients I used to so I've got no use for any med-x I make except to give him and I'm not the young man I once was either. I wouldn't stand a chance against geckos or deathclaws or anything. Either way, I reckon I'm ahead. I love omelets. I love tequila. He keeps me well supplied with the materials for both. "

"Yeah. That's one way of looking at it. I wasn't trying to say anything about the guys character or anything. I mean, he did save me from a radscorpion, after all."

"That's right. He did." The sharpness of Rotsons reply made it clear that this line of reasoning had perturbed him which only served to heighten Veronica's curiosity.

"Didn't mean to strike a nerve with you, Doc. I'm curious about the guy, you know, "What's he like?"

Rotson didn't answer right away. Instead, he glared at her a moment before finally relenting, "I can't tell you much more than I already have. Harper has his tics, his…. Quirks. He ain't like you and he ain't like me. But he is, despite himself, a decent sort and I don't like it when folks question my gut feelings about another person." With that, Rotson wiped his mouth and stood, "I have work to do outside. I'm pleased you're feeling well enough to banter with an old man but I do have to see my other patients. Don't go outside. It ain't safe for you. Radiation and all that."

Veronica watched the doctor grab his bag by the door, he snatched his hat off its rack and put it on his head as though it weighed a ton. He took a resigned sigh before opening the door and stepping into the sunlight leaving Veronica alone with her thoughts.

_That was unusual. I was just talking. I really didn't mean to suggest Harper was a bad guy. _She mentally shrugged and pushed herself away from the table. Rotson was right, though. Who was she to question Harper's integrity? After all, he had saved her from a radscorpion. But, at the same time, he had also mislead Rotson about the value of his trades – a big no no as far as Veronica was concerned. That was tantamount to stealing.

Suddenly, it all hit her at once. A crushing mental and emotional weight; she'd almost died, a stranger had rescued her, she'd been holed up in a shed at the foot of a radioactive mountainside, and worse her supplies weren't here. _What the hell? _She got up abruptly and ran to where she'd been sleeping in the 'examination room' which was, in all reality, just a cot with a big bright light hanging over it and a few medical instruments on a little cart. She looked under the cot – nothing. She looked in the corners of the room – nothing. She looked all over and found no trace of anything that had been hers. Not her clothing, not her rations, not her medkit, not her power fist… she rolled her eyes and groaned.

"Oh fuck me!" Her family would never understand what had happened. She was already in sand deep enough to count as quicksand with them. Without the supplies she'd been at Mojave Outpost procuring, her family might not survive the next few weeks. She _needed_ those supplies. _I need to talk to Rotson about this_, she thought. But he'd warned her about going outside. The radiation might be lethal. But might be lethal wasn't big on her 'to fear' list since her family would face a situation that was _definitely_ lethal without those foodstuffs. "All this could be avoided if they'd get their heads out of their asses and learn to farm like normal folks do! Fuck!"

Veronica had been staring off into the distance imagining the faces of all her friends and family struggling to comprehend that she hadn't been able to come back with food and water when Tin Man glided down the stairs. It took a moment before she realized that the machine had been upstairs cleaning up Rotsons bedroom. _Maybe my things are up there?_ Without a second thought, she pushed the bucket of bolts out of her way and darted up the stairs, taking three steps at a time. At the top of the stairs she stopped cold.

Rotson, it seemed, was a person her parents would consider quite dangerous if they'd been alive to meet him. Before her was a room of impeccable organization (impeccable as far as the Mojave was concerned). She could see evidence of no vices anywhere. With the exception of his still downstairs, Rotson didn't seem to be a man of very many interests. Those interests didn't exclude her missing possessions, either. She found nothing upstairs. A Journal of Internal Medicine was all that caught her eyes. His clothing drawers contained nothing but clothes. His nightstand had just the lamp. Underneath his mattress she'd only found a magazine with scantily clad buxom ghouls and a few sticky pages inside – that was gross. Behind a small curtain she found a chamber pot and another magazine – this one with more pinups and fewer articles of clothing (more sticky pages as well). In defeat, Veronica sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"What the hell am I going to do?" She asked no one in particular.

"You could get off my bed, for one thing." Rotson stood at the top of the stairs leaning against the wall. "Find what you were looking for?" Veronica squeaked in surprise when he spoke. She hadn't even thought to put anything back where it had been. She began to yammer an explanation but Rotson cut her off, "If you were looking for something incriminating, I'm afraid all you'd have found is that I'm an old man who likes ladies of a certain necrotic flavor." He shrugged. "That's twice today you've managed to offend me. For a woman who considers herself in my debt, you certainly have a strange way of showing it."

"I – I'm sorry, Doc! I really am. I got carried away. Look, I panicked alright. I mean, you said I've been here three days and when I woke up, I didn't have any of my stuff. I know you took a big risk patching me up and I appreciate it. I just… I just… if I don't find my stuff then my family will starve! I was getting food for them, see? And I've been gone three days already!" She was near tears now.

Rotson, however, was not moved, "So… out of concern for your family… you tear apart my bedroom? And don't think I didn't see the flash of disgust on your face when you first looked at me. You wake up, judge me, try to seduce me, eat my food, insult my friend and my intelligence while doing it, and then ransack my house and judge my taste in women – because you think your family will die without you? Is that your logic?" He had her there. Nothing she'd done made any sense. She had done all of that.

"I… you're right, Doc. I'm sorry. I don't know where my mind was – is. I don't know where my mind is. I wasn't thinking." She felt deflated. She felt defeated. She felt… like shit. Veronica threw her hands up in defeat. "How can I make it up to you?"

"You can't girl." He shook his head solemnly, "there is no 'making it up.' What you can do, however, is start putting my stuff back where you found it. After that, you can meet me in the kitchen and kiss my ass a little bit. Maybe I'll forgive you."

With that, Rotson turned around and went downstairs.


	3. Chapter 3

After she had finished cleaning up her mess, Veronica tip toed down the steps to hover in the doorway of the kitchen where Rotson was sitting.

"Come on in. I won't bite." He said. He was sitting with his back to her and had a fresh cup of coffee poured for her.

Sitting opposite, Veronica tried her best to make her misery known, "Look, doc I – I just want to say that I'm sorry. I don't have an excuse." She knew she looked pathetic. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying and she felt disgusting. _What if he kicks me out?_ _I can't survive the radiation._

"I suppose I could kick you out seeing as how you've done quite well to take advantage of my hospitality. But you wouldn't last two minutes out there. So…" Rotson inhaled deeply, "We're gonna have to work this out, lady." He tapped absently on the table while he spoke and reclined. "So you're sorry. You've been a dick and you're sorry. I get it. You woke up and didn't think about what you were saying or doing; you panicked and didn't think about what you were doing."

Veronica started to respond but he held up his hand. His eyes said that this wasn't the time to interrupt. Rotson meant business. You didn't think. We all do that from time to time. So how about this: I'm pretty well upset that I've been violated by you. But you didn't really intend to violate me. I patched you up and I meant it when I said that was gratis. I don't want you to feel like you owe me anything because you don't. But you can do me a kindness…. Harper. He's my… he's my friend in a way. I care about him. But he isn't good with people. He'll be here later today and I want you to go with him. I've got an errand I need him to run but it's an errand that requires a certain amount of… persuasion. The amount that Harper has no chance of accomplishing on his own."

"I'll do whatever I can to make it up to you, Doc. I mean it." Veronica was giddy with the opportunity to climb herself out of the hole she'd dug with the ghoul.

"I'm glad to hear it. But you should know… this won't be easy. It won't be quick. It won't be safe. But, if you accomplish this, I'll be in your debt. And I hope you'll take it easy on an old man like me from here on out." He smiled as he referred to himself. He smiled but his eyes were serious. Rotson wasn't giving her a choice in this. Like it or not, she realized, she was here – with him – alone. No one knew where she was. No one knew what had happened to her. Here she was, alone in a shack with a ghoul surrounded by radiation and radscorpions. And a man the ghoul felt compelled to stress was a strange cat was on his way to receive a dangerous errand. Veronica suddenly felt like shivering. She felt trapped.

"If you're going to do this though… you need to know some things about Harper. I don't know where he's from. I do know that he's been traumatized by his past. He's not too bright. But he is clever. He'll know when you're insulting him all the same, clear?" It was. "Also… he's a cannibal."

"A what?"

"A cannibal. As in, he eats people." Veronica smiled and started to laugh but Rotsons face – Rotsons eyes – never changed. He wasn't pulling her leg. "You're pulling my leg."

"I'm dead fucking serious. Harper eats people. More than that… I'm relatively certain that he's a sociopath. I mean… more sociopathic than the average run of the mill wastelander. Indiscriminate killing? I'm sure of it. Cannibalism? I'm sure of it. Sympathy for the Legion? Absolutely."

"Wait… the fucking legion? This guy likes the legion?" Shit shit shit! Veronica suddenly realized what Rotson was doing. He was putting her in the company of a lunatic nutbag and was giving her no alternatives! "You can't expect me to…"

Rotson leaned forward in his chair and glowered at Veronica, "I'm not expecting anything. I'm asking you to trust me. Harper is a sociopath. But he has a role to play. I need you to be his liaison with those he'll come into contact with. If you don't, he'll likely die. NCR will find out about him eventually. They'll hunt him down. Legion too, for that matter. I'm not sure how Caesar responds to cannibalism but I'm certain he won't take to well to my friend." Veronica felt herself wavering on the precipice of an adrenaline rush. Her hair began to stand on end. He breathing came in rapid short rasps. She felt her heart begin to pound so hard that her head began to pound.

"Doc… I… can't do this. You're asking me to go on a trip with a murderer who eats people and wants to see others enslaved. You're asking me to do this while my family starves. You're asking me to put myself in danger, not just from the actual mission but also from the very man you want me to join?"

"Yes."

…_wait… did he just say…_ "Yes. I am asking you to do all of that. Your family can take care of themselves, Veronica. Don't think I don't know who you are – what you are. You're Brotherhood. And chances are that you aren't the only 'shopper' they've got in the Mojave. In fact, I know you aren't. Brotherhood showed up in the area not one day after Harper brought you too me. They've been watching this place. I imagine it's because you're here."

Veronica's mouth dropped. _I'm not trapped after all! They've found me! They've known all along!_ "Wha – how many paladins?" Rotson held up 2 fingers, "then why haven't they come to get me?"

"Because I asked them not to. With their armor on they won't fit through my front door and even if they could, the place would be so overcrowded that I'd fear for your safety. The reason your supplies aren't in the shack is because I've already given them to the paladins. I told them your condition and what had happened. I'm not the villain you think I am, Veronica. I haven't trapped you. I'm helping you and I'm hoping that you'll do me the kindness of taking care of my friend for a while. He needs purpose. You can give that to him." If what the doctor had said was true then Veronica had completely misjudged him – had _judged_ him. "I have a radiation suit for you – they brought it. They know what I'm asking you to do and your superiors have approved. Almost too quickly if you ask me but, hey, it ain't my place to get involved."

That part didn't surprise Veronica. She'd been on thin ice with the Brotherhood for the past few years. Ever since Father Elijah had left. She had been questioning the mission of the Mojave Chapter ever since the Battle of Helios One. The Brotherhood was dying. She knew it. They knew it. But they wouldn't change. Her opinions had made her a veritable _persona non grata_ and she'd been placed on "indefinite procurement status" which meant that she was all but forbidden to return. In addition, shortly after her exile, the Elder had placed the bunker on lockdown.

"But the Bunker is on lockdown! Why would they be here?"

Rotson shrugged, "they said that you missed your check in. So they dispatched a scout to find and track you. Said that you were the kind of person that needed watching. Not my business; so I didn't ask any more questions. But, never you mind all of that. I need you to help Harper, Veronica. The Brotherhood is fine. They have the supplies you got for them. The men I met don't strike me as the kind to lose too much sleep if they never heard from you again. So forget that. Whatever you were doing for the Brotherhood before today is over. Now you work for me. Now your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to help my friend."

It was all too much. Relief. Grief. Concern. Anguish. All of it. Too damned much. "I need to punch something." Rotson laughed. "Alright. So the way I see it; you've been so good to me and I shit all over that. So my welcome here is pretty much exhausted." The doctor nodded, "great. And my welcome at home was exhausted long ago. I can't even disappear because the Brotherhood has been keeping ties on me for who knows how long so…. my only option is to go on this 'errand' of yours alongside a sociopathic cannibal."

"That's about the size of it."

"Great. So what are we doing?"

"You're going to Repconn."


End file.
